Words
by f3296
Summary: Michelangelo teaches Master Splinter at a young age that actions speak louder than words. One-shot family fluff between Michelangelo and Splinter.


_Everywhere, everywhere_

_Everywhere I go_

_Everywhere that I've been_

_The only thing I see is_

_Is beautiful people_

_Beautiful people_

_Beautiful People; Chris Brown_

* * *

The crayons were the first thing Master Splinter ever got for the boys he had found in the sewers. The little tots were so intrigued by these coloring sticks they couldn't put them down. Although, still so small, their imaginations were still limited. Most of the coloring they did were mere lines and squiggles. Each of them giggled and mumbled, still too young to say any words. But not Michelangelo. When he had the crayon in hand, he was silent. It was the littlest one of the four that was the quietest. He spoke through his actions. He was very hyperactive and jumped around as much as he could. But when it came to verbal communication, he never tried.

Splinter looked over the little ones shoulders to see the squiggles around the paper, none with any real meaning but the entertainment of the children. He watched as Raphael crawled over and snatched the paper from under Mikey's coloring hand. Mikey pouted before pouncing on his brother. Little Leonardo and tiny Donatello saw the fuss and quickly joined in. Splinter watched and smiled seeing the children play.

* * *

The years passed quickly and the little toddlers turned into small children, running around and giggling out their words.

"I wanna play!" Splinter heard Leo call as Raphael ran from him with the small toy soldier in his hands.

"Nuh uh! It's mine!" He laughed as he raced to the bedroom. Splinter saw Donatello reading out of the childrens book he had found while scavenging for supplies. Donnie mouthed out the words slowly but was pronouncing them better than any child his age. As much as he loved seeing his son learn, his eyes fell on the youngest who was curled up on the couch with a paper and his crayons. Splinter strolled over to the couch and sat next to his silent son. For a while Splinter worried over little Michelangelo for he never attempted to talk. He once saw Raphael making faces at Mikey and him mocking the faces. He knew Michelangelo understood what was going on around him but wondered if his mutation caused him to become mute.

Looking over, he saw the drawing to see simple drawn figures of four little turtles holding hands together with Splinter leading them in the front.

"Is that me and your brothers?" He asked. Mikey looked up at him, cocking his head to the side. Splinter placed a paw over his chest.

"Master Splinter." He placed a hand on Mikey's shoulder. He used his other hand to point at Leo and Raph who ran passed Donnie, knocking the book out of his hands.

"Brothers." He looked back at Mikey, trying to clarify his picture. Mikey's eyes flicked back and forth between his brothers and his father before shaking his head no.

"Oh? What's this picture then?" He asked. Mikey looked down at his drawing before placing it to the side and launching himself at Splinter. He wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him down into a hug.

"Daddy!" He said with a giggle. Splinter laughed and gathered his little child into his arms. He looked back down at the picture and decided this is one of the ones he would always keep.

* * *

A father's worst fear is to outlive their child's lives. The shredder attacked his sons while they were out on patrol. Usually it was Leonardo he would have to worry about when it came to The Shredder but today it was his little Michelangelo. A wound he received began to get infected and caused him to get a high fever. It's been like this for days. Michelangelo, after years of persuasion found his voice and never stopped talking since then. Now, he laid on the bed, gasping for air with no words.

Seeing his son struggle with life crushed his heart. Breaking it into a thousand pieces. Not Michelangelo, not his baby. He prayed every night for some force to help and heal his son. To help assure his old soul that his son will live. Splinter had not left his side fearing the worst if Donatello and April O'neal could not solve the problem.

A few more days passed and Donatello finally assured them all the Mikey was going to come out fine. Though, even though his son was awake, he did not speak. His throat too sore to speak. He had his sketch book in hand and drew everything out. Splinter watched as he drew things from the Empire State Building, to the stray cats he would occasionally see. Seeing these new drawing, taking note of the amazing improvement compared to what he drew as a child, remind him of the one he kept that was from his youngest son.

"Michelangelo." He said quietly. Mikey looked up and smiled.

"What do your pictures represent?" He asked. For a moment Mikey simply stared at him before reaching out a scared hand, searching for Splinters. The old rat took hold of the green hand and gave it a squeeze. Michelangelo never answered his question but only smiled, the brightest smile he could ever give.

* * *

He coughed harshly, it sounding wet and painful. Master Splinter felt his bones ache, his limbs begin to cripple. He sat in his room with a single box in front of him. As he grew older, it was harder for him to move around, so his sons cared for him while he remained behind the doors. He kept his eyes on the box before deciding to open the top. When he did, he saw all the old things he had kept for himself over the years. Leonardo's play Katana. Donatello's first picture book, Raphael's bebe gun he had taken away many times.

What caught his old eye was the old, crumpled paper. He unfolded it to see it was the old drawing Michelangelo had made years ago. He smiled, allowing his wrinkled skin to stretch seeing the picture. As if on cue, the door opened to show Michelangelo walking in with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

"Ready for lunch Master Splinter?" He asked with a smiled. Without taking his eyes off the paper, he waved for Mikey to come and sit next to him. The turtle did as he was told and took a seat, placing the food a distance so it wasn't in the way. His hands shook from age when Splinter showed Mikey the paper.

"Do you remember this?" He asked, voice hoarse. Mikey took the paper in his own hands and observed it and laughed.

"Yeah I remember this." His face softened looking at this piece of his childhood. Splinter leaned over slightly.

"You never told me what this picture was." He mentioned with a smile, quickly retracting to cover a cough. Mikey remained with a smile.

"It should be self explanatory father." He looked at Splinter.

"I asked if it was me and your brothers but you told me no." He countered. Mikey laughed.

"It's not." Mikey took Splinters hand. "It's family. Sometimes, you don't need words to explain something. It's what you see and what you do that counts." Splinter thought his heart had soared. He placed a paw on top of the hand that held his own.

"Michelangelo, you my son are the wisest, the kindest, and the brightest worrier I have ever met. I am proud to have been there for you and to call you son." Splinter told him. Mikey grinned at him.

"I know father. Your actions spoke out for that." He leaned in a gave him a hug, being careful of his fathers state.

Splinter came to the conclusion that Michelangelo was right. Actions speak louder than words. If it is shown, it does not need to be explained. Splinter passed with that message and knew, his sons will thrive and live on. On his shrine were his valuables that he had kept, and on top of his old kimono, was the single hand written drawing that will represent their family for the rest of time to come.

* * *

_**A/N: Just a little fluff between Mikey and Master Splinter :) I hope you all enjoyed!**_


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